The Ring of the Wolf, Book 1: Aleksander's Story
by BreakMan01
Summary: With Dracula out of the way, there is a new evil, and a new hero. A ring with magical properites in the hands of evil is a dangerous thing, and not even a Belmont or a dhampir can stop it. They must work together. But how will they handle it? Revamp.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Castlevania, or anything that doesn't belong to me (wow, really redundant, huh?). Anything else does belong to me. Thank you.

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Author's Note: For those of you who have sampled this story, then you'll be getting an all-new experience. If you haven't, well, you get a good story out of it. I felt as if I wasn't giving my best, and the story was just getting stale IMO, so I'm scrapping it and writing it all over. Yes, most of the characters will return (I can't help it if I love Alucard; he's such an angsty bad-ass), but the story will be retooled so that it's hopefully better. The story is still going to keep its trilogy role, as this will be retitled to be Book One. Not only will the story be retooled, though, it will also feature some slight links to the games, so be on the lookout. Okay, well, I guess I've kept you long enough. Please R&R, and happy reading!

To Victoria

For those to whom power is given, much is required.

The Ring of the Wolf

Aleksander's Story

Prologue

July 8, 1723

Somewhere in Bretagne, France

Slowly, quietly, he slinked across the courtyard, thieves' tools in hand. A grin crept across his face as he thought about his situation. "Yeah, this should be easy enough," he thought. "There isn't anyone here, no guards, no nothin'. Should be easy for me to get it."

The man's black clothes kept him from being seen in the darkness, but he still held a dagger, just in case. He spied from a bush the darkened opening which was the entrance to this fortress-like estate. "Good," he told himself, "No one here. Perfect." Silent as a cat, he padded from his hiding place to the entrance, always wary of someone seeing him. The door was already open. "This is just my night." Quietly, he entered.

Looking around produced the results of quite the lengthy examination: no one was there, and it looked like no one had been there for a long time. It had the eerie feeling of being abandoned, and the ghosts of those who had lived there long ago were looking down. The thief made his way down one of the estates massive hallways, not sure where he was going. He grabbed a candle off of a table and lit it with some flint. Off he went down the hall, light in hand, mind on the sole purpose of his presence here.

Meanwhile, something was following him. A cloak, seemingly hanging in thin air, silently maneuvered out of eyesight when the thief turned to look behind him. As soon as the thief turned back down the hall, the figure resumed its shadowing status. It was obvious why the thief couldn't see him; he was as black as shadow.

The thief made his way down the hall until he came to a set of doors, which looked rather odd in this place. They seemed to be made of stone, with many runes and carvings in it, but they were made entirely out of wood, the same as the rest of the house. "Bingo. This has to be it!" He made his way inside, closing the door behind him.

Inside, the thief surveyed the room. Nothing looked like it had been touched in ages, a thick coat of dust covering everything in this room. There were plenty of books lining the walls, with a fireplace in one side and a chair, with its back to the door, close to it. In the opposite side, there was a display case made from the simplest carpentry, as if the maker had intended to build it as quickly as possible. But on second glance, its seemingly hasty figure turned out to be a very complex pattern, with runes covering every inch of the wood. There was a large balcony opposite from the door, looking out over the moors in which this estate had been built.

The thief turned around after going to the window, and froze. In the chair was what appeared to be a person with a book in his hands making like he was reading. In reality, it was a corpse, probably a few decades old, its gnarled fingers grasped tight around the cover of the book. After his inspection, the thief went back to look over the display case again.

Approaching the case, he noticed a mist starting to make its way into the room under the door. Thinking nothing of it, he cracked open the case. "Seems like all those runes were just superstitious brew-ha-ha," the thief told himself. Peering in, he saw his worst nightmare: nothing. His heart sunk; all his dreams had been shattered.

All his life, he had been told about a treasure worth more than any in the world: a simple ring. It was simple, and yet it wasn't so simple. He had heard that the ring would grant its user incredibly good stealing skills; his reason for stealing it was quite simple: he wanted to be the world's best thief. He had been doing his best, and finally (or so he thought) found the place that entombed the ring. Unfortunately, no one had told him its other properties…

He thought back to where else the ring could be in this room, when a strange thought hit him. He crept back to the chair with the corpse, and looked at its fingers. There it was, waiting for him. The markings matched perfectly to what he had been told; this must be it. He noticed, though, that the corpse's fingernails were unusually long and sharp, as was its teeth. He gave it no thought, and grabbed for the ring.

And then he materialized.

"NO!" The figure screamed, as the thief got the ring. He threw the finger back at the corpse, and glanced nonchalantly at him. He was a noble, from the appearance of his clothes, which were a solid black except for gold buttons, chains, and buckles, white tunic, and the underside of his cape was an intricate pattern of red velvet and silk. At his belt was a wicked-looking sword, whose name was Crissaegrim, and his eyes shone with a hellish fire in the night, as well as his white skin.

"And who the hell are you?" the thief asked. He tossed the ring back and forth.

"My name is not of any importance. You are not allowed to have that ring. Give it to me NOW!" The man held out his hand, hoping that he wouldn't have to resort to violence. His opponent wasn't going to back down though.

"Why should I? I should have this ring; I stole it, fair and square. And I won't even let you see it if you don't tell me who you are."

Breathing a sigh of annoyance, he answered, "My name is Alucard, if you're happy. Now, give me the ring. It isn't yours; you have no idea what it can do." He grabbed the hilt of his sword, ready for a fight.

"Well, Alucard… Wait, you said you were Alucard?" He nodded. The thief started to get somewhat alarmed, which was evident in his actions. "Well, even so, I won't let you have this ring. It's mine, and I won't have someone taking it from me, even you!" With that, he slid the ring onto his finger, and all at once a massive transformation took place. He started growing in size, hair appearing all over his body. His mouth turned into a snout, many sharp teeth poking from it, and his hands grew sharp claws. His legs began to resemble a wolf's. By the time the process was finished, he was twice the size of Alucard, and he could have easily sliced him in two. As long as he was human. But Alucard wasn't human; he was vampire.

Immediately Crissaegrim leapt from its sheath as if possessed, connecting with the wolf's flesh. It howled in agony, then bent down to knock Alucard out of the way. He flipped over the wolf's paw, and sliced at its arm. Unfortunately for the vampire, the werewolf could heal itself.

"Damn it! Why didn't I just kill him in the first place? It would have been much easier!" He sidestepped the razor sharp claws that came down at him, and rolled under its massive paw, his sword at the ready. The wolf was becoming furious, its swipes and bites becoming more accurate. Alucard had to work hard to try to stay out of the way of getting hit by the werewolf. Finally, the wolf connected, sending Alucard through three rooms before his fall was broken by a sofa. Alucard changed into a wolf, and proceeded to try to teach the upstart a lesson.

Alucard rushed straight at him, faster than lightning, and bit into the soft flesh under his throat. The werewolf grabbed him and slung him out the window as he started to heal. Then he jumped down to take on the vampire, wanting that thing out of the way.

Alucard started to get up, but he knew he was too weak for something that the ring had created. He needed help, but where could he get it from? The Guardians were the closest, but he had a feeling that someone more capable would appear. A certain man by the name Belmont…

As the werewolf neared, Alucard turned into a swarm of bats that flew past the werewolf, out of his claws. The werewolf looked up; it was new moon. And yet he was still a wolf. He howled at the darkened moon, and started his death march across Europe.


	2. Darkness Into Light

Disclaimer: I don't own Castlevania, well, maybe except for all my original characters. Anything else, I know it's not mine. So, happy reading, all you lucky individuals who get to read my story!

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The Ring of the Wolf

Aleksander's Story

Darkness Into Light

August 13, 1723

268 miles outside Nürnberg, Germany

A lone man stood atop one of the hills that composed his surroundings, waiting for a young boy to return to him. Raven-dark, long hair billowed behind him, while gray eyes set in a pale face scanned the horizon. His clothes belied his experience, for he was dressed as a noble, with no marks or tears. He looked at his watch. He needed to wind it again. Well, if he didn't find what he needed in this city, he could always just go to look at the time. He spotted the clock tower, and noted it for future reference.

He drew his knife out of his belt, the only thing from his past. He ran his finger along the back of the blade, testing its keen edge with his thumb. The blade was curved slightly, and during his travels, he mastered using this knife as a weapon against thieves and bandits. It was custom made, with the family name "Belmont" imprinted on the blade. The handle was birch, with leather wrapped around for better grip. A finger guard ran from the crosstree to the pommel, so he could use it without having to worry about it slipping.

He looked up as the boy came running back to him, waving a paper around with the ferocity that only a boy can possess. "Here it is, here it is!" he yelled. "You wanted the old man, and I found him! Here is where he lives," he managed to spill as he caught his breath. Handing the paper to him, he kept his hand held out, waiting for payment.

"And as promised, here are your marks." He handed the boy five marks, patting him on the head, and sent him on his way. His gaze turned back to the paper in his hand, its contents seeping into him. He folded the paper and put it in his pocket, then headed down to the town.

"What is he doing here?"

"I wonder if he'll give us money."

"He's so handsome."

These were just a few of the comments that greeted him on his way into the town. True, he was a good-looking guy, but he had business on the brain, and nothing was going to stop him. He headed to the Commons and looked up at the clock. Ah, yes, twenty past four. He swept his hair back behind his ears, a few audible sighs accompanying it. He turned around only to find several of the town's maidens looking back at him, their parents or betrothed looking at them with contempt and the young man with jealousy. He turned back to the clock, and took out his gold-plated watch. It was meticulously made, with gold Romanic numbers, ivory hands, and an ebony face. In this light, it shone brilliantly. As he wanted before, he wound it to fit in with the time here, and he walked down the street in the direction of his objective.

He approached a seemingly simple bookstore, with a sign that said "Books" in German. He took the paper out of his pocket, and checked what was on it. Yep, this was the place. He tucked it away and walked in.

The shop was full of books. Absolutely full of them. A few people were perusing them, taking no notice of the newcomer. A hefty older man stood behind the oak counter, looking at him. The man could tell he was being studied, and in turn studied the gentleman. He didn't seem to be against him, so he let his guard down, but not too much. All of a sudden, a bustling man with an armload of books came careening out of the back room, almost knocking the young man over. He helped him to stay upright with all the books.

"Here, let me help you with those, old man." He took some of the books from him, making the older man's load lighter. He was waiting for the man to recognize him. It finally hit him like a load of bricks. The man's disheveled face lit up.

"Aleksander! What are you doing here?" he asked. "Please, come right this way." He glanced at his associate, who was staring dumbfounded at Aleksander, and introduced them. "Aleksander, this is Jans. He helps me out with the shop now and again. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know. Oh, and Jans, this is Aleksander, an old friend."

Aleksander, standing a good head higher than his host, chided him jokingly. "Come on, Friedrich! You're not that old! I should know better than that, of all people."

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Friedrich Heim responded. "Well, come on, come on, we haven't all day. I want to hear everything. Absolutely everything. You must have a lot to talk about, with all your traveling and adventures and such…"

Entering the back room, Aleksander interrupted him. "If you would shut up long enough, I would tell you, but since you want to prattle on and on, be my guest." He placed his stack of books down on a stand next to the door, while Friedrich prepared a place for Aleksander to sit. He looked around him, drinking in his surroundings.

"Here, boy, sit down! Sit down!" Friedrich was the only one who called Aleksander "boy" anymore, so it was a little strange for his ears. He sat where Friedrich had indicated, and reached for a cup of tea that sat on the table separating the two. "Now then, your travels," Friedrich prompted.

"Ah yes, my travels. As you must know, since we last saw each other, I have been all over the world. Well, I take that back. I've been all over Europe, which is more accurate. I've seen the French, Prussian, Italian, Spaniards, even our friends from across the Channel. I've learned at least sixteen different languages, and can speak them fluently now. I have learned everyone's superstitions, their food, their lifestyles."

"My, my, you are the globetrotter, aren't you?" Friedrich interrupted.

"Ahem," Aleksander cleared his throat as Friedrich got the message, "Anyway, I believe I have something that would greatly interest you. You were a student of superstition, if I remember correctly, and it seems like I've got a good one. On my way through France, it seems I heard tales of a "werewolf", as they call them over there." Aleksander noted Friedrich's eyes growing as he informed him. "They say it appears out of nowhere, taking their young women, and eating them. It will occasionally go after a man, but it loves to take the women. I was wondering maybe you would know something about it…" He paused, waiting for an answer from the old man seated across from him.

Friedrich leaned back in his chair, then stroked his chin, which had some stubble from not keeping up with his personal hygiene for the past several days. "Well, this news disturbs me immensely. I thought that old thing had been destroyed long ago…" Aleksander became immediately curious, wondering what he was hiding. He reached across the table and asked, "What is it? What is it you know? I believe it might help me somehow."

Friedrich sighed. "Your curiosity always got the better of you, as did your perception. You were always such a smart young lad. Alright, I'll tell you, but we must go elsewhere." He went back out front and told Jans to hold down the fort for him until he got back (which he was already doing), then came back to Aleksander and said simply, "Follow me." He pulled the blinds over the windows, and walked to one of the bookcases, and pulled out three different books, all of them on lycanthropy. All of a sudden, the bookcase swung inward to the wall, and a passageway opened up, leading under the store. Friedrich motioned for Aleksander to follow him, and went down. Wanting to know what this was all about, Aleksander followed him.

When they got to the bottom, there was a door with a lock, and a strange-looking motif on the door: two wolves coming together to form a ring, looking like they were eating each other, with a coat-of-arms that consisted of two swords crossed together in an "x" on a shield, with a cross on it. Friedrich reached into his pocket and produced a key with a wolf's head. He unlocked the door quickly, hurrying Aleksander inside and closing the door behind him.

The room was furnished as if they would need to be down there for a while. There were more bookshelves, this time on one side of the room. Two sofas dominated the left corner of the room, while there was a table and chairs in the opposite corner. A doorway led to a pantry full of food, where they could get anything they wanted. Another doorway led to some beds, with shafts going up to the ground to let in air from above. Two weapons rested behind a glass on the hearth opposite the shelves: an immaculately forged sword and a chain whip made of the finest links, wrapped around the blade. Aleksander walked over to the sword and whip, with Friedrich watching from behind. His gaze bored into the sword, seemingly going through it to the wall.

"That would be your inheritance. You are Aleksander Belmont, a part of the family that is destined to defeat the Lord of Darkness, Dracula."

"Dracula?" Aleksander asked, a bit ludicrous. "He's only a child's bedtime story to scare them into sleeping. Are you telling me it's a real person?"

Friedrich looked down. "Well, he's not a real person, per se. He is a demon that feeds off of people's fears, of their superstition, of their pure being. Your family has been fighting him ever since the Second Crusade, when he truly sold his soul to the Devil, and took on the powers of darkness. I was assigned to raise you, for there is another Belmont, Juste, who is the true heir to the legend. But for such a time as this, one other should be used, and that is you. I trained you, and let you go out into the world to complete your training for just such a time. But I am getting ahead of myself. You aren't going to go after anything as big as Dracula, you're going after this beast."

"Wait, you said you were assigned… By whom?"

"I'm afraid I must tell you… I am part of a group called 'The Guardians', who use their power to guard an ancient relic, the Ring of the Wolf. There haven't been any real werewolves around France for several centuries, so this must be the work of the ring. What I don't understand is why it has come into light now. Maybe your family history might play into this somehow, I don't know. What I do know, is that you need to go and defeat the monster while he isn't up to his full strength. Are you ready and willing?"

Aleksander thought about it for a few minutes. He scratched his head, wondering if he could do it, weighing the odds, and such. "Sir, I know I can do it. Just give me where and when, and I'll take this thing down."

"Ah, yes, that's a good lad. Now then, for your equipment. Obviously you know two articles, the sword and the whip. The whip is your family inheritance, the Vampire Killer. This whip has been used for centuries, defeating Dracula and his minions. This is a tried and true weapon. Now, this," Friedrich said as he pulled the sword from its glass tomb, "This was my weapon when I was in full service of the Guardians. This, I call the Watchman's Blade, and was entrusted to me from the leader of the Guardians herself. This blade has dispatched many a supernatural being in it's time, from werewolves to lesser vampires to ghosts. I want you to wear it. Here, play with it for a little bit, I'll go fetch the sheath." With that, Friedrich went away to look for the sheath.

The blade was shining even without any light in the room. It was a straight, two-edged blade, with a finely designed hilt. The crosstree was made from gilded steel, and the tang went the full length of the blade, making for a strong sword. The hilt was designed to take on a wolf's appearance, with two tails forming the crosstree, and a head forming the pommel. For the wolf's eye, a ruby had been used, and several garnets had been used to make up its teeth. The grip had been made from leather and wire, and wound up the length of the grip, for easier handling. He sliced the air with it several times, and noticed the weight of the sword: not only was it perfectly balanced, but it was also lighter than his knife! He thoroughly enjoyed it. He stopped swinging when he saw Friedrich come back with the sheath, which was leather and marked with many runes.

"Ah, here is the sheath. Yes, I see you have noticed its usability. It is very lightweight, and it has certain features that other blades do not, such as its blade cuts through the flesh of werewolves without the werewolf healing itself. Also, the blade doesn't break under the strain of a vampire. I made sure of that one myself, in case I had to go up against the Dark Lord myself. Now then, I must bid you on your way right now if you are to catch him before he gets to full strength. There is a passageway through here where you can get back up to the surface without being seen. Now away with you!" He urged Aleksander out of the room, out to the surface to start his adventure. Aleksander saluted him, and went out of the passage. Friedrich chuckled to himself, "He reminds me of me when I was his age." He went back to the shop, after making sure not to be seen coming from the underground room.

A strange presence filled the store around midnight. Friedrich, startled from sleep, grabbed the nearest weapon he could find (a book), and was ready to hurl it at the thing. The mist that filled the room materialized into the form of a man in black, in noble's clothes. Friedrich threw the book, but the man caught it before it connected.

"Friedrich, don't you remember me," the man asked the now puzzled old man.

"Alucard? Is it really you?" Alucard nodded, and a seriousness settled over Friedrich. "Let me guess, it's worse than I thought."

"You were right to send the Belmont. He is the only one who can stand the thing at its current strength. But alas, its power is growing. Not only has it realized what it can do, it also knows about my family. About my father." Alucard lowered his head, waiting for the news to sink in.

"He's headed to Transylvania. I was worried about that." Friedrich ushered Alucard down to the same room that he had pushed Aleksander out of to start this dangerous journey.

"He wishes to gain the power of Dracula. I must put a stop to him myself, but I am too weak. Sealing my power has taken some of my strength. It will return to me in time, but Aleksander has to ward off that beast before he can take all of Dracula's power." He sat down on one of the chairs as Friedrich planted himself on the sofa.

"So, that's why you came here. Why don't you send one of the younger Guardians? I know of several in Britain. Maybe they could help you…" His voice drifted off, and he was fast asleep. Alucard walked over to him, and draped a blanket over him.

"All right, old man. I will. Thanks for the advice." He walked to the entrance, turned into mist, and crept over the ground out of the shop. "Now I know what to do…"


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